Fair Trade
by Respect the Hobos
Summary: Yeah, they sold their souls to the devil. But surprisingly, they don't mind. One-shot.


A/N: Reno's sick of being ignored and alerted me _very _persistently of this fact last night. I own nothing, obviously.

Faust. Interesting guy, maybe you've heard of him. Sold his soul for knowledge and power. Makes a person wonder: _what would you sell your soul for? _It's not so easy to think of off the top of your head. You really gotta dig. What is the one thing that motivates you above all else? What is the one thing that you think would make you completely happy?

Think about it.

When you reach the answer, another problem presents itself. _Where do you find the Devil? _What does he even look like? What if the Devil is really a _she_ and you've been looking in all the wrong places? What if the Devil is different for each person? If that's the case, you'd never know exactly, would you? Or maybe you have to wait for the Devil to come for you. Maybe your soul has to be strong enough that it warrants possession.

Here's a thought, something to rock your comfortable little world.

_I've met the Devil. _

He's a real ugly fucker, but I think he must have been attractive at one time in his youth. Or, if not in looks, he must have possessed a real charm. Charisma. 'Course, now it's corroded. But I work for him anyway, because even if I _was _willing to give up everything he's given me, there really is no escape. Taking your soul back is harder than it sounds. Physical stuff is easy; it's the metaphysical shit that causes all the trouble.

What enticed me to sell my soul?It's a strange question and, like I said, not easily answered. At first I thought it was escape that I wanted. I wanted to be something more than I was.

_But I no longer exist._

Then, I thought, I wanted money. I grew up poor, but the Devil gives me a paycheck.

_But the money doesn't make me happy. _

I just spend it all on booze anyway. The rest gets packed up in a bank account Leviathan only knows where for "someday," that mystical and undefined word people always throw around.

_So why am I so damn happy? _

Even when it feels like my life has gone down the tubes, there's always that nagging in the pit of my stomach, that lurching, like a hook that pulls me to my feet every time I take a hit, every time I fall to the ground and contemplate, even for a moment, giving up.

And then it hits me.

_It's the suit beside me. _

Turks are not the most attractive people you will ever meet. Even if their faces are nice to look at, there's always that edge. They're untouchable, unfathomable, _completely alien. _They're not afraid to put a bullet through your skull or a blade through your chest and you can sense it from a mile away. Or at least across the room. Let's be honest, no one wants to mess with someone like that, someone that you know would kill you without a second thought.

_Except another person just like them_.

That's what keeps us going. The knowledge that the person beside you, your sister or brother, would be willing to lie for you, _kill _for you. You can tell from the smirk that flits across their face, that silent reassurance that they're there and they always will be.

_A Turk never turns his back on his own._

And that's what those pansy-ass rebels don't understand. We didn't help them out in Wutai because we're nice guys or because we're afraid of them. We helped them because our little sis was in danger of complete humiliation at the hands of someone who had no dignity of his own. And, yeah, we would've had to chase the old man down eventually anyway, but, truth be told, dropping him off that cliff? That was for us. We're the closest knit family you will ever meet.

Point of interest: _we're also the most ruthless._

The Devil isn't nearly as restrictive as I imagined he would be. He lets us do pretty much whatever we want, as long as we do what _he _wants in the meantime. Seems like a more than even trade to me. In fact, I'm pretty sure we came out ahead in that trade. Destroying a town? No problem. Just make sure you leave plenty of hard liquor in the breakroom for me. And make sure you contact a really good dry cleaner. I'm gonna need that suit. Sooner, rather than later, please.

And don't you _dare _start a fight with us when the only home we've ever known is crashing down around our ears. Don't you have a mission or something? We certainly have ours and if you try and get in our way we will kick your ass. Turk style. That incident at Sector 7 was just a confidence booster. And at Rocket Town when you almost blew up my best buddy. Don't worry, we're together now, we're on our game.

_And we won't quit_.

So I ask you again: what would you sell _your _soul for?


End file.
